


Whiskers

by Askell



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Annoying your brother is the best thing ever, Brats - Freeform, Cat Ears, Cat Tail, Cat/Human Hybrids, Catboys, Claws, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, aint never heard of her, older Damian, what is science anyways, whiskers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14614905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askell/pseuds/Askell
Summary: After having been exposed to a Strange compound, all four of the Wayne boys are partially turned into cats.(Future nsfw robinpile with a side of Selina believing she's in Heaven, don't like don't read all that)





	Whiskers

**Author's Note:**

> This is complete and utter crack to relieve the tension from school. 1000% self-indulgent. Will eventually turn into a lot of sex ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> If you have specific requests/prompts for the future chapters, which will as previously said be filled with smut and possibly tentacles, don't hesitate to comment them~

Once the dust cleared up, Damian finally managed to take a look at the situation. 

His eardrums had taken quite the toll, as he was currently unable to ear a single noise. The stinging twitch he could feel inside his eyes didn’t bode well either. Less impeding but equally as painful, his jaws, hands and lower back pulsed in a concerning way. Trying to get up, he also found out his sense of balance was completely thrown off. A wave of panic coursed through his chest at the possibility of disabling brain damage. Maybe it was just a concussion. He certainly hoped so.

Ripping off one glove for better sensitivity, Damian searched his direct environment for his partners. Grayson stood at arm’s length when the explosion occurred, he had no trouble finding the thin material of his suit. He was warm. Breathing. It was all that mattered. Crawling to his side, Robin activated their distress signal. Unable to hear if anyone was trying to communicate with them, much less see through the throbbing inflammation of his pupils, he settled on attempting to wake the other man up. 

Red Hood and Red Robin had been close too, but he didn’t dare leaving his brother’s side until he was brought to safety. Despite his attempts, Dick hadn’t woken up yet. The simple moves had thrown his whole perception askew, high and down spinning so fast in his head a wave of acrid bile rose up to his mouth. The dust covering both of them didn’t help in that matter, the pungent smell of it overpowering the small confort he had found in Dick’s cologne. His ‘hero’ cologne, to avoid any of the people he saved to accidentally recognize his civilian one.

Pressing his forehead against the unconscious man’s ribs, Damian tried to stay as aware of his surroundings as possible in spite of his splitting headache. Logically, he knew the rest of the family would find them in less than a dozen minutes. After all, the laboratory had been relatively easy to access for the two of them, only to find Jason had beat them by a handful of seconds. 

A hand landed on his shoulder. He may have been feeling like his whole head had been used as a makeshift gong, his reflexes kicked in. The potential opponent was thrown away as he rose above Grayson’s body defensively. He had grown up a bit these past eight years, yet was not completely able to cover him entirely. It didn’t matter, Damian had known worse situations for a fight. 

His eyesight had cleared up a bit, allowing him to recognize Jason’s muscular form. Iconic red helmet lacking, he staggered like a drunk man. Probably suffered from the same symptoms. Both were taking too long to recover, there must have been some chemicals in the air as well. An hypothesis which was confirmed when Batman finally got to them. Not a single shred of his skin was visible under the containment gear. 

The extraction process left him with an overwhelming urge to knock himself out. Not only did the nausea skyrocket in the backseat of the batmobile (turned into the airtight cage they had to use for some specific villains), but both Grayson and Todd were leaning heavily on him. Drake had the intelligence not to. His teeth hurt as if someone were trying to pull them off, and felt strangely longer under his tongue. At least, the canines did.

Which was properly ridiculous. 

His hearing was still gone, which was an increasingly worrisome fact. Though his eyes had recovered partially, everything seemed too sharp and unfocused at the same time. Unless he purposefully looked at something, his attention shifted before he could make out details. Moving objects were surprisingly easy to identify, on the other hand. 

Jason’s lips opened and closed in patterns he recognized as rapid-fire Spanish. Anger and confusion were painted on his face as he talked to a limp Grayson. The eldest had been the closest to the explosion, trying to shield Damian from it. Finally awake, he didn’t seem to fully realize the content of his environment yet. His usually bright blue eyes looked washed away with tiredness. A feeling he could wholeheartedly relate to. Only the Red Hood had enough energy to even attempt not to slouch on the thick leather seats. 

Closing his eyes against a new throb of his stomach, Damian didn’t fight the darkness which overtook him only a few minutes later. His troubled senses vaguely informed him of strong arms carrying him to a cold operation table, or maybe an MRI bed. Judging from the vibrations he felt shortly after, probably the latter. At some point, a new localized pain informed him of a needle in his arm. Too exhausted to care, he went back to sleep.

At 6:45 in the morning, he jolted from his bed with a dizzying sense of restlessness. He could hear _every single noise_ in the house. The light blinded him, but the simplest detail appeared to him as if mechanically magnified. Gasping, he found out his sense of smell had also exponentially increased. Had he not seen it before, he could have definitely guessed he was back in his bedroom based on the predominance of his own scent. 

Damian was still marvelling at the possibilities his sensory increase opened for his vigilante career when a loud bark had his spine feeling like it was ripping off his back. With a hiss he felt coming from the depth of his chest, the young man found himself clinging at the ornaments of his ceiling. Titus, shortly followed by Alfred, found him confusedly hanging from the curtain rod. Somehow, long semi-circular claws had flawlessly shed from in-between his fingers. 

“Master Damian, you seem to have… recovered from last night.”

“Pennyworth, good morning. Is Grayson experiencing the same inconvenience?”

“I’m afraid so. As well as masters Tim and Jason, all of whom you shall find in the west wing breakfast room.”

“Thank you, inform my Father I shall join them after my ablutions.”

“Of course, master Damian,” Alfred bowed, an unreadable emotion on his face which suspiciously looked like hilarity. “Should I take Titus out in the garden?”

“That would be most convenient.”

Once the butler left, Damian managed to untangle his newfound claws from the thin satin. He could not, however, avoid the damage. Long perpendicular rips covered the whole length of the curtain. Apparently, his feet had also been graced with the implement, though in smaller versions. Landing on the plush carpet on all four, he also noticed the presence of a long, white-tipped tail in his back. Which probably explained why he hadn’t fallen on his rump as expected. 

In front of his mirror, the young man had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Mostly planning how to avoid Miss Kyle’s company as long as his peculiar ailment lasted. Her increased presence at the manor was bound to be problematic given his new… appearance. Namely, the soft-looking conic ears sprouting from his dirty, unruly hair. As well as the longer canines, slit pupils and what he had no choice but to recognize as whiskers. 

The dark grey fur was clearer than his own raven hair, and different in texture as well. Fascinated by the new nerve endings, Damian couldn’t help stroking them like he often stroke his cat’s. The feeling was pleasurable, especially near the basis where the fur was softer. It took him a full minute of half-lidded eyes and shallow breaths to realize what he was doing. Cheeks heating up, he also felt his chest vibrate in a way that way definitely a purr. Embarrassing.

As an adult, he was supposed to be beyond that kind of uncontrolled reaction. Had been trained in that matter since childhood. His only consolation was that he would definitely do better than Grayson and Todd, who clearly lacked his poise and detachment. 

Hiding his new limbs under his clothes proved useless, as they were now necessary to maintain his balance. Coming in contact with water had left him with an irrational sense of dread and anger, the later of which he didn’t bother to hide while entering the breakfast room. 

Lounging on the wooden floor in a puddle of sunbeam, Drake was unsurprisingly making a fool of himself. His pure white tail lazily flopped in the way, and was only spared to be walked on by the reflexes of its owner. On the other hand, Grayson was solely responsible for the impressive purr resonating in the room. Ashen gray, his new appendages were undoubtedly of the angora type. The piles of shed fur already clinging to the velvet of the couch were there to prove it. Todd was nowhere to be seen, but his scent hung in the air.

“Damian, I see you were also… affected,” came his Father’s deep voice from the table. 

“I wager you’re already working on an antidote, aren’t you?”

“Indeed. Though you should not expect it sometime soon, I have never seen such a complex compound.”

“You better hurry up, I ain’t stayin’ like this forever old man. Got a reputation you know,” growled Todd from behind the couch. 

Dick laughed and turned to pat his head, earning a loud hiss and a scratch. 

“Rest assured your current state is not beneficial to anyone.”

Damian heard Cassandra before she even reached the floor, which was impressive given his normal senses would have never detected her. Taken aback, she stood in the doorway as she took in the sight of their mutations. 

“Cute,” she signed with a grin, proving that her times in Brown’s presence had negative impacts on her attitude. 

“Especially Jaykitty over there,” pointed out Grayson, still trying to annoy him with his hand. “You’ve got the cutest round ears man, just accept your fate.”

“Fuck you,” he spat in retaliation, rising up just enough to accidentally showcase the small, orange ears in question.

“Boys let’s not fight in the manor,” scolded Bruce, raising his glass to his lips. “We need to work out arrangements to include this new development for your public and private personas as well as- is anyone listening to me?”

Just as he ended his sentence, Dick had pounced on the small patch of light from his glass’ reflection, shortly followed by Jason. Their added weight shattered a vase which had the misfortune to be in the way, prompting a new chase to catch the shards. Tim’s ears perked up but he kept napping. Only thanks to decades of repression, Damian successfully only followed the light with his eyes as if his life depended on it. 

“They really are _cats_ ” signed Cass from her spot at the end of the table, putting special emphasis with slightly slower movements.

Bruce simply sighed, placing his head in his palms in an open sign of abandon. It was too early, after a full night of surveilling their transformation, to deal with four grown-up-sized cats. Especially since Jason had taken a particular interest in trying to catch Dick’s tail. As they rolled on the thick carpets, Damian took place at the table. Thankfully, his sense of taste didn’t seem to have changed. He would have hated to be forced to consume meat, on top of being afraid of water.

Milk, however, tasted so rich and silky on his tongue. It slid down his throat like the richest cream. Closing his eyes, he took the time to appreciate his newfound knowledge with a satisfied groan. The alien vibrating sound in his chest started up again, though in lesser proportions than Grayson’s. 

“Told ya, that boy needs some milk,” snickered Jason, his accent making it sound like ‘melk’. 

“Piss off, Todd.”

“Language, boys,” playfully intervened Grayson, having caught Jason in his arms and slowly rubbing his cheek on top of his head.

The other man barely struggled, instead accepting the ministrations as his eyes slowly closed, his own purr joining the quatuor. His tail lazily batted Dick’s thigh, curling and uncurling in a way any cat-owner recognized as ‘pleased and sleepy’. The older man kept pseudo-grooming his hair like this until he settled his chin in the crease of Jason’s neck and promptly joined his nap. The concert of purs and snores had Damian yawning as well. 

“I believe you should rest for today, we’ll figure out the situation when all of us will be more inclined to do so,” asserted Bruce, already heading out of the room.

“Are they soft?” asked Cassandra beside him in a low whisper. “Your ears?”

“Yes they are but do not attempt to- Cain. Unless you want that hand to be expressedly separated from the rest of your body, refrain from pursuing that train of thought. Go bother Drake, he’s acting like his usual turdy self.”

“So he’s softer?”

“To hell if I care.”

Ignoring his open scowl, she kneeled beside said lump to gently pet his ears. An amazed expression crossed her face, realizing he hadn’t lied about the softness. Though his were probably softer. Drake, after all, was not known for his frequent showers. Would probably even less now that he most likely shared his aquaphobia. 

With a low groan, the semi-human puddle rose himself off the floor, then promptly splayed himself back on the new spot of sunbeam. For once, Damian couldn’t completely object the idea. It looked warm, and comfortable. His eyelids closed on their own accord. On the other hand, the Grayson-Todd pile could certainly accommodate a small addition. 

Pressing his back to Grayson’s, Damian curled upon himself and let out a contented sigh. The warmth and familiar scents quickly drove him back in Morpheus’ arms. 

-o-

Nudging Drake awake became one of his favorite activities during the following days. He would push him off his perch, pour water on his head, or simply kick him from the couch. Naturally, the other tried to fight back with his tiny nails. Having been less exposed to the compound, he lacked the whiskers and claws his brothers harbored. Which made him even more of a target to their antics.

Todd would simply collapse on him when he was tired, in spite of the other man’s protests. However, that had nothing to do with their new situation, as he already used every excuse he could never to nap alone. When he felt especially generous, Damian did not make him regret to close his eyes in his presence.

The real problem was Grayson. Forced to stay inside until they could figure out a way to smoothly reintegrate their civilian lives, the older man was growing antsy, restless. Which, in Grayson body language, turned out to mean he would near-desperately seek physical contact.

Damian was almost certain he hadn’t been dreaming when he had heard clawing sounds at his door one night.

The situation had lead to some comic moments, such as Bruce freezing in place when he found himself with a lapful of purring mess. In the middle of his semestrial accounting review. The people on the other side of the webcam had only seen a disproportionately long feline tail whipping at Bruce’s chin. Figured out he had managed to gift his sons another exotic pet. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

It was however funnier to watch than to be victim of. 

He had intended to read, since his regular activities were suspended. Sparring had been interesting, but adapting to the new limbs was exhausting. Besides, Todd had been obnoxious as he always was, hellbent on making sure he read ‘classics’ such as the Harry Potter series. Officially, he loathed the lack of realism and only read it to get his brother off his back. 

Yet, Damian would perhaps never discover the identity of the half-blood prince if Dick kept rubbing his head under his chin. 

“You do realise you are not a cat, and were not raised as one, do you?” he asked, with a grunt.

“I don’t know, it feels natural.”

“I now have more of your hair on my face than you have on your head, Grayson. Beware of possible losses.”

“Not old enough,” the other man had the audacity to mumble, pressing his nose against Damian’s neck.

“Age doesn’t matter if one has sharp claws in-between their fingers. It is getting ridiculously long, anyway.”

“But I like it that way…”

It was difficult to think of a witty retort, feeling warm lips press against his skin. He briefly wondered when his reflexes against physical proximity had flown out of the windows. Another kiss ghosted over his jugular, the hollow of his jaw.

Turning his head to catch those lips felt as normal as breathing. His hands found Dick’s cheeks and pulled him closer. His skin was soft, save from the whiskers and light stubble. Something lit up in Damian’s chest, a flame of raw desire which left him panting and confused. Feeling like doing something stupid, he licked Dick’s lips. Sighed contently when their tongues met. It was perfect. It was-

“Aherm. Dinner is served y’all lovebirds."


End file.
